Unique Combo Long

An unexpected not-so meet-cute between two contradicting characters that defy the odds.

God, I love LA. Walking from my new apartment, a smile on my face starts to show and pop songs in my noise-cancelling ear buds blast. I’m walking to my new-ish job as a business analyst for one of the many corporate overseers, a Fortune 500 company. Making my way through a construction zone, I walk the narrow, uneven surface. I lick a shattered blue beer bottle out of the way and it slides into the construction zone. To my horror, my eyes dash left and I see said beer bottle cut through the air and hit one of the guy’s shins. I curse a little and yell a quick apology, moving to return my earbuds to my ear when I hear, “Asshole!”. I turn around, looking to the guy. I turn around to a huge, bearded wall of a man. Incredibly light brown eyes shine in the sun. Ok, so a little intimidating, but I’ll be fine. Right? “Watch it. You’re the one who failed to clean up his own construction zone.” I spat. Suddenly, a slightly sheepish look overcame his hard expression, but it was gone in an instant. “I’m actually a sanitation worker.” He said, maybe a little nervously “Shove it up your ass. Move along.” I darted a death stare and walked away. I got to my office building, a brutalist combination of white concrete and thin, crystal-clear glass. I swiped my ID and headed into work, opening a presentation for my client. As an hour or two passes, the guy comes back to my mind. The garbage guy, was it? What even gives him the right to speak to me that way? What I will say is that he looked warm. It was a chilly morning—no wind, luckily—but he came prepared with a thick, hybrid sweatshirt/flannel. My thin dress shirt did nothing against the icy air, but at least it was a little hotter then. I went to go close my laptop to take a lunch break, but I remembered the only way in and out of the office was that construction passageway. He probably won’t notice me, and I was starving, so here goes nothing. I tipped my head down, only peeping a glance towards the workers. I recognized him right away, he was hard to miss. He was a thick, tall dude, no one would’ve missed him. He had taken off the comfy-looking hoodie, and was wearing what could only be described as a wife-beater tank top. It was white, but looked fairly clean apart from a few stains. I looked away, not risking further ruining my day. I mercifully got to the food cart across the street without being harassed by the garbage man. I gratefully grabbed my gyro wrap and dug into it, taking a large bite as I walked. As I hummed along while devouring the wrap, suddenly a large hand yanked at my food, grabbing it in the air. “Hey what the fu-“ I looked up to see the nameless garbage man. His shirt was stained now, not only with sweat but with other indistinguishable fluids. Yikes. “Give me my food, garbage man. Some of us actually have work.” At that, his eyebrows twisted angrily. Before I knew it, an anaconda of an arm snakes around me, pulling my ID from its clip on my belt. He held it with the gyro, high above my head. “You give that back right now you psycho!!” I screamed, and he only laughed a little. “Since you’re the hard worker here, how about you lug that bag to the bin?” I quaked with rage. How does this idiot think he has the right to give me orders. I rolled my eyes angrily and opened my phone to see an urgent notification. My meeting’s in ten minutes. Fuck. I jumped to grab the gyro and ID, but he lifted his hand above his head and I couldn’t reach it. “Fine. Fucking psycho.” I yelled as I took the huge bag in my hands. “It isn’t that hard. I don’t know why I have to do your job for you.” I pulled at the bag, but it barely budged. I pulled again, hard, and got it to lift off the ground. I yanked it the ten feet to the garbage bin, and as I swung it to throw in the trash, the bag exploded. Food waste and dust flew everywhere, and I yelled out and dropped the bag. Disgusted, mortified, and justifiably enraged, I stomped over to the man, and held out my hand. He stopped laughing to shove the ID in my hand and the gyro to my other hand, wiping away a piece of cobbled concrete on my shoulder. He looked pleased, and teased: “Good boy!” He waited to laugh, but my cheeks instantly turned red. My dick started a little—it didn’t go hard but it made a small bulge. His eyes flicked down for a split second, and after a stood frozen for a few long seconds, I spat out quietly, “Get lost, Garbage Man.” He yelled back. “It’s actually Christopher.” I narrowed my eyes but didn’t turn back, speed-walking to my office. I was a little confused and a lot infatuated, cruising my meetings with my head in the garbage—Christopher, that is. I knew I was attracted to men, but I never really had a big crush or kind on anyone. I was getting kind of obsessed, but it was time to clock out. Well not literally, I just packed my laptop and turned to the elevator. As I waited in the elevator—yes, it was a slow one—I searched up the term ‘good boy.’ It came in a few submissive blogs, and I quickly scrolled through them. I jumped as the elevator dinged, and I harshly crossed the lobby to leave the building. I walked in the chilly evening, again, dress shirt was too cold, when I saw a large figure waiting. I was a little scared, but I knew I was a fairly large man and had nothing to be afraid of. I kept walking, when suddenly he cut in front of me. I looked up at a jet-black beard and bushy eyebrows, recognizing the garbage man—Christopher. “Uh. Hi-move?” I mumbled. He looked a little nervous, his upper lip’s hairs twitching a little. I tried not to show a hint of a smile as the large, burly man looking nervous talking to me was a little strange. “Would you, would you like to go on a date? Get dinner?” I was a little thrown, and I wasn’t really an adventurous person, but the way his shirt tightened around bulges in his biceps and the way that the streetlights were captured inside his large, brown eyes had me say “Uh-yep-yeah sure.” He warmed up a little—kind of like a huge puppy—but only for a second. He squeezed my hand with very calloused fingers, and I sighed a breath I’d been holding for a few minutes.

He seemed ready to go now. After the day he put me through, I’d rather some clean clothes and refreshed feeling before tackling this one.
“Not today though, I need to get home to feed my cat.” I blurted out. Did I have a cat? Only if you have a great imagination. His face sank a little and he nodded. I slipped him my brand-new business cards and looked into those rich brown eyes. “Call me.” I rested a hand on his upper arm, which was a little soft outside and very hard below that. I walked away, my heart beating fast and uneven.

The next morning, I woke up to a text.
“Today works. Meet me at 117 Outfield Dr. at 8pm.” I was a little thrown at the audacity, but my nights were free, sad face emoji, so I sent my most nonchalant thumbs up and moved on.

My morning had the tiniest more jump to it, considering my worries of blowing yet another first date. I think it’s the pressure. I dressed up for work in my usual business suit and brown shoes to throw off the ‘perfect’ look a little. As I crossed the sidewalk to the office, I was nearly freezing to death. A low fog covered much of my eyesight, and I trodded on, shaking just a little. As I was passing the scene of the crime, the construction site, when a hand grabbed my arm, hard. I yelped a little and hit back pathetically. It was Chris, a scolding look crossing his thin scribble and crossed, bushy eyebrows.
“You trying to get sick to skip our date?” He asked. I laughed a little, but he looked serious. I wasn’t really sure what to say, so I just shook my head. He took off a seriously thick flannel jacket and placed it on my shoulders. His intense body warmth burnt my freezing skin. He walked me to my building. I turned to him, straight nose watering a little and red. I reached up and swiped under his nose with my thumb, and returned the jacket to him. He inhaled at the gesture and rushed me inside the building. I looked back and he put the coat back on and rubbed his hands together, walking in the opposite direction.
Sitting in my cubicle/office space, I thought about the large man waiting for me outside. Okay, maybe he wasn’t waiting for me, but rather working on the construction site. Whatever.

I worked right up until 7:30, rushing out the door a little as I checked the map and noticed the 40 minute drive estimation. Great first impression. I sped to his house, which turned out to be nicer than the average blue collar worker’s. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was a well-maintained, medium-sized house with a familiar and welcoming vibe.

I knocked on the door, and a slightly-chaotic Chris opened the door. A kitchen towel stained red hung over his shoulder and a peeler in his hand shaped a muscular fit for a guy so large. A warm smile put me at ease.
“Come in, come in. Have a seat.” He gestured to a wide island with bar seats.
“Hope you like pasta.” He said with his back facing me, dumping seemingly fresh gnocchi—potato peels covered most of the kitchen—into a bright red sauce. Hunger clawed at me a little, as I had been too nervous to eat a full meal during lunch. A record player spun antiques at a low volume, making silence comfortable. He whipped down a big plate of gnocchi in red sauce and some basil in front of me before jumping in the seat next to me with another plate.

Dinner was nice. Maybe even too nice. I got comfortable fast, staring into my big bowl of pasta as I talked about my previous jobs, parents, college life. Christopher mostly listened and nodded as he shoveled pounds of gnocchi into his mouth. To be fair, he was much bigger than me and ended up finishing my bowl after I offered. As he took both plates. I stood up to give him a shy kiss. He brought his head down and kissed me back for a second before I pulled away. My hard-on was going to be uncomfortable tonight. I drank more of the wine he poured over dinner. We continued talking as he put on a random comfort sitcom, and I noticed it had started raining.
“At this rate, you won’t be able to drive home.” I slightly stumbled as I leaned for him. He looked hesitant, most likely at my tipsy state, but I have him a sloppy kiss. I reached down to lick that inch of chest hair that had been peaking out of his tight shirt the entire night. I took off my shirt, ripping the collar in the process. But I didn’t care. Orbs of muscles surrounded me and I was desperate to get a taste. But suddenly a wave of sleepiness waved over me, and I temporarily rested my head on Christopher’s belly. It had a thin, soft layer under soft abs. Huge arms moved to cover my face, and he used an app to lower the lights in the living room. I watched the sitcom for a while, chucking at the digestive noises I could hear in his stomach. A hand drew circles on the top of my head. I let my eyes close for a minute. Head emanated from the body under me, and I curled closer. Sleep overtook me.

I woke up with my cheek to an unfamiliar, furry object. Panic set in as my head whipped up, looking around. Memories faded in slowly as I calmed, looking down at Christopher. His shirt was halfway pushed up so I could see the soft indents of abs and thick body hair. After around ten minutes where I just took in Christopher’s muscular dad body a little, long eyelashes fluttered open and his nose quietly sniffed. Drowsy Christopher in a deep, deep voice let out: “Morning.” A smirk landed on his lips as his hands moved towards my hips. He undid my pants button and I panted. He unzipped it slowly, letting my pants very delicately holding on to my thighs. The opening framed my hard cock under underwear.
“Go make some coffee, and keep this.” I slowly got off of him, holding my pants up as I threw a pod in the machine. I was too happy to complain about the weirdness and discomfort of the request. Pulling my pants up after handing Christopher his coffee, I gulped a few sips as I sat next to him, trying to remember what had happened last night. But I was also distracted. It felt good to to do something for him, and I felt a little more useful, especially as he cooked that entire dinner last night. I wanted to take care of him, to help him. I couldn’t really explain in. He twisted upwards, looking a little more awake.
“My entire body is sore from this new job. Arms, thighs, feet, the works. I just can’t believe-“ he kept on talking about his job, but I stared at his animated wide jaw, the stubble that had grown a little thicker. His arms were wide and bulging with muscle, unlike his softer belly. Tree trunk thighs helped proportion his height well. He was like a cut bear in a way. His tan skin was covered in body hair. As he continued talking about his current job, I slowly reached out towards his ankle and pulled it slowly, starting to softly massage it. He didn’t seem to notice, until I caught a sore spot and he groaned loudly mid-sentence. He was a big man and the sound was a little loud, but I took it as encouragement.
“If I had the right team, it would be easier. But-“ he kept on talking and I listened while climbing his body with my hands and focusing on spots he reacted to. It felt good—really good—to..? Service him? In this way. It wasn’t really sexual, I just felt good about making him feel good.